To live under the cat’s foot - a man dominated by his wife

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

 

Keziah gaped at the duke, astonished and touched beyond anything that he should say such a thing.

“No!” she replied, the word spoken rather harder and sharper than she had perhaps intended, and got to her feet so quickly that the room span in an unpleasant manner. She lurched a little, grasping the mantelpiece for support. “You will not.”

The hurt in his eyes was apparent and she sighed, wishing she’d been kinder. She wished she knew how. “You don’t want that, not really. When this is over, the last thing you’ll want is a constant reminder of last night,” she said, the words matter-of-fact and, in her view, perfectly obvious. “We would never suit, in any case,” she added with a laugh. “I’m far too …” Keziah paused, searching for the correct word. “Bossy,” she said at length. “And pig-headed, and I can never say the right thing. I have none of the softer emotions you would want in a woman, Ash.” The words were frustrated now as she felt guilt for hurting his feelings and his pride, but surely he could see that a worse match would be hard to contrive. “Besides which, you’re a duke,” she added with growing irritation. “There will be scandal enough to weather without marrying me. It’s a ridiculous idea. I shall do very well by myself, I assure you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied. The words were quiet and he was staring at the fire now, his expression unreadable. That in itself spoke volumes. She’d been cruel and she regretted it, but it had been a truly foolish idea.

“Besides, what do you think your grandmother would say about it?” she said, watching him blanch at the idea. It was a low blow. Perhaps, but stories of the dowager Duchess of Chartley were legend. That her grandson was entirely under her thumb was something that her father had been quick to discover and laugh himself sick about. Keziah allowed herself a grim smile as she wondered what her father would have said if he’d known the foolish pup he’d mocked was quite capable of murdering him. She frowned, then, knowing that she had made Ash deeply unhappy and wishing she was a kinder person, one who knew what to say and how to say it, but her father had crushed anything of that nature, if indeed such feelings had ever been hers.

She was his daughter, after all.

Ash stood in silence, and the atmosphere felt brittle between them.

“I do thank you for the offer, though,” she said, feeling awkward now. “It was … very decent of you.”

He made an amused sound, though there was in no way any happiness in it. “Decent,” he repeated, a strange smile at his lips. He turned back to her, then, and his face was placid, though she felt much of the honest openness she’d come to expect of him had left his eyes. “Please think nothing of it,” he said, all at once formal and polite.

Keziah felt her heart sink, knowing that the intimacy that had been between them just moments earlier had gone. She felt regret uncoil in her heart, which was ridiculous. Such intimacy could not exist between them when there was no future in it, so it was foolish to regret the loss of something she had no desire to pursue. The argument found favour in her mind, and so she crushed the regret that still lingered in her heart despite her surety, and moved the conversation on.

“You must ensure that the butler does not betray the fact that you left the house. Can you trust him?”

“Grant?” Ash replied, and then nodded. “He’d rather die than see the family fall into scandal. He’ll not say a word.”

Keziah accepted that with relief. “We’ll have to say that my father introduced us, I suppose,” she said, trying to concentrate on the details. “We met when I arrived in Bath, but kept it quiet because my father was very strict and I was afraid of him.” Keziah pursed her lips, considering. “We’ve been meeting in secret for weeks, but last night he discovered that I’d been meeting someone, that’s all true enough,” she added, nodding in approval. “The best lies always stay as close to the truth as possible.”

“I bow to your greater experience,” Ash replied and Keziah started in shock. There had been bitterness to the words that she’d not expected from him, and she was taken aback by how much they stung.

“Yes,” she said, glaring across the ever-widening distance between them and folding her arms. “Life with my father has provided me with a wealth of experience, you see, your grace. I can lie and I’m wonderfully proficient at cheating at cards. I’m an excellent shot, I can pick locks, and listen at keyholes. I’d be quite adept at blackmail, too, if I put my mind to it, having seen it done on very many occasions. Wouldn’t I make a perfect duchess?” she said, sneering as she dared him to look down on her.

Except that she should have known better. Ash only looked saddened.

“You’re not your father,” he said, and then added, “no more than I am mine.” There was an edge to the words that she couldn’t read but she could guess at. No doubt he felt he didn’t measure up to his sire, whereas she was terribly afraid that she did.

They both jumped as a strange scratching sound at the door of the parlour broke the taut atmosphere, and Ash called for whoever it was to come in.

The butler appeared, his face one of deep disapproval. Whether that was due to his grace being in a room alone with her and the door closed, or because of the news he bore, Keziah couldn’t guess.

“There is a … person, here asking for you,” the butler said in arctic tones. “An Inspector Formby, your grace.”

Any colour that might have returned to Ash’s face was immediately lost as his eyes filled with panic. Keep calm, she urged him silently, trying to communicate this to him without saying a word.

Perhaps she’d succeeded, though, as he took a breath, rearranging his features. “Then you’d best send him in,” he said, getting to his feet and crossing the room to stand beside Keziah.

“Well, then,” he said, giving her an unreadable look. “If such unlikely characters as ourselves are supposed to be lovers, you’d best learn to act.”

Keziah tried to hold her tongue, aware that there was an undercurrent to his words, but, as ever, she couldn’t quite manage it.

“It’s you that needs to act,” she said, her voice low. “If you will wear your emotions so expressively, it’s no wonder if people think you are less than you are. You must learn to dissemble.”

He stared back at her, as if unsure as to whether that was a slight, or a rather twisted compliment. In truth, Keziah wasn’t sure herself, but then he laughed and took her hand.

“In this case, I think I’ll take your advice and stick as close to the truth as I may.”

Keziah stared down at where his hand held hers with a frown as she tried to unravel what had just been said, but then there was a cough and the icy butler reappeared with two men, and put any further conversation at an end.

“Inspector Formby and Constable Greenly, your grace.”

Keziah held her breath.

***

Mr Formby restrained his desire to give his constable a clip round the ear as the starched-up butler led them into the parlour. Having had plenty of experience of dealing with the ton, Mr Formby was beyond being dazzled by the wealth and opulence of a life that seemed entirely too foreign to him. Young Mr Greenly, however, was living up to his name rather too well, and his eyes were on stalks as he stared around one of the lesser homes of the Duke of Chartley.

Putting his irritation to one side, Mr Formby instead took stock of the duke himself as he was led into an elegant parlour.

Lord Ashwicke, his grace, the Duke of Chartley, was a young man, a very good-looking one, and obviously something of a dandy. At first glance, Formby thought him merely a coxcomb and might have been inclined to dismiss him, but there was a determined glint in his eyes that gave him pause. It was then that his attention was taken by a young, blonde woman, whose hand the duke was holding onto with what Formby thought looked a rather possessive air.

The blonde would have been something of a beauty, if not for the fact that she had recently been very ill-used, judging on the bruises she bore.

“Inspector,” the duke said, releasing the young woman’s hand and stepping forward and offering his hand. Mr Formby was a little taken aback by such informality, as dukes didn’t always condescend to such nice behaviour. However, it did depend on the man, he conceded. Was the young man always so polite, or was he doing his best to ingratiate himself? “It is rather fortuitous, you arriving here this morning,” the fellow said, his face growing sombre. “I was about to send for you, in fact.”

“Were you, your grace?” Formby replied, raising one eyebrow – well, this was interesting.

“Yes,” the young duke replied, moving back to take the young woman’s hand. “We wish to prosecute Lady Todd’s father.”

Lord Ashwicke gestured to the lady, presumably Lady Todd, then, and Formby felt his interest pique further as the duke continued.

“I think I need not explain the circumstances of us wanting to take this action,” Lord Ashwicke continued, touching a tender finger to the woman’s face with such obvious adoration that Mr Formby felt rather superfluous. The lady blushed, clearly just as uncomfortable with such an overt declaration, and Formby cleared his throat.

“Am I to understand that this is Lady Keziah Todd and that Lord Todd is responsible for the injuries the young woman has suffered?”

The duke nodded, his face grave and his eyes darkening considerably as he spoke. “Yes. The man is a brute, and I intend to see him punished for it.”

Mr Formby stared at the young man. If he’d been of the Corinthian type, Formby might have questioned why he’d not simply called Lord Todd out, but it did not seem strange to him that this young pup had not done so.

He’d have been way out of his depth.

The duke’s face was rather pale, and he looked like he was under a considerable amount of strain but fighting to keep outward appearances together. Of course, if he was in love with the young lady and he discovered her in such a state, that would be only natural. Perhaps Lady Todd was angry with the duke for not calling her father out? Formby couldn’t help but judge that the young man was a deal too nice in his ways to resort to physical violence, he didn’t seem the type, somehow. More of a dancer than a duellist, by the looks of him, but then, love did funny things to people and made them act in ways you wouldn’t credit. Of course, he could simply have paid someone else to do the deed rather than dirty his lily white hands.

“Well, as the lady is his daughter, I’m afraid, as I think perhaps you know, that I am powerless to intervene. However, I have to inform you, sir, that someone has beaten you at the post,” he said, watching their faces with interest. “Lord Todd was murdered last night.”

There was certainly shock in the man’s eyes, Formby thought as he studied the duke; in fact, he looked very much like he’d prefer to step outside and relieve himself of his breakfast and was fighting not to do so. The daughter, though, he mused, turning his attention to Lady Todd. Not even a flicker. Now that was curious.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such dark tidings, Lady Todd,” he said. Her blue eyes were cool as they turned to him and he suspected a keen intelligence lay beneath that unruffled exterior.

“I think you must excuse me from expressing any of those emotions you might expect from a daughter at the loss of her father, inspector,” she said, meeting his eyes with confidence and perhaps even a touch of defiance. “You see, my father was a monster. He beat and mistreated me as a child and has continued to do so throughout my life. Though now his death leaves me with debts I haven’t the slightest idea how to pay, I cannot regret that someone has seen fit to put a period to his life.”

“I see,” Formby replied, and he truly did pity her, this defiant young woman. Her life at the hands of a man he knew all too well was the devil come to life, could only be guessed at. His job, however, was to solve crime, no matter how unpalatable, and he couldn’t help but think that the woman before him was only too capable of pulling a trigger. “Well, I hope you will forgive me the intrusion into your personal affairs, but I would be obliged if you could tell me, exactly, what happened yesterday.”

***

Keziah swallowed and wished she’d had a little time to prepare herself for this interview. Belatedly, she wished she’d followed the blasted doctor’s advice and stayed in bed.

More fool her.

So instead she told him the complete truth about everything that had happened yesterday. Her only adjustments to the truth being that the picnic had been a romantic affair - though if he believed that, he was a fool, and somehow she didn’t think Inspector Formby suffered fools at all, let alone gladly - and she also added the fact that Ash had remained at her side all night.

There was something very unsettling about the inspector’s piercing gaze, and she fought to keep her countenance placid. In truth, she’d been impressed by Ash and his handling of the inspector on his first coming into the room. Now, however, the strain was beginning to show. The duke looked ill and nervous as the man continued to question them, and she began to fear that he would say something careless as his nerves began to fray. It was for the best, then, that she decided to do something entirely out of character and that she had only done once in her life - so she fainted.

If she said so herself, she contrived it rather well; perhaps she was a better actress than she’d realised. For with a trembling voice she announced, “Ash, dearest, I feel rather unwell …” as she pulled herself to her feet, and was then at liberty to swoon into his arms without causing herself further bruises, and to great effect.

“Keziah!” Ash cried out, and with such distress that she realised he didn’t know she was shamming it. “Call for the doctor,” he barked at the inspector, and with such force that Keziah had to force herself to keep still and not crack open an eyelid to see how this had gone down. The next minute, and she had been swept up in Ash’s arms for the second time in as many days. “I’m sorry, Mr Formby, but as you can see, Lady Todd has borne quite enough for one day,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry and pretty damn angry besides. Keziah admitted herself a little impressed.

She heard the inspector’s expression of apology and dismay with relief, and his promise to return soon with less equanimity, as Ash swept past him and carried her up the stairs and back to her room.

Ash put his boot to the door to open it, earning himself a tut of reproach as it swung wide.

“You’ll ruin the paintwork,” she muttered, glancing down to see scuff marks from his boot on the white surface.

Ash paused, his face one of surprise for a moment as she felt the tension release from his shoulders. “You were faking,” he said, sighing as she smiled at him.

“It seemed the only way to make him stop,” she said, noting that he didn’t immediately set her down but continued to carry her to the bed. Not that she had been about to argue. She felt as weak as a kitten and less able to deal with a law man than at any time in her life before.

Ash nodded as he bent to set her down. “I can’t say I was sorry to see him go,” he admitted. He paused as he released her, their faces close together and his eyes full of an expression that Keziah could not endure with composure. She looked away and he straightened, retreating once more behind the rather stilted politeness that he’d sought refuge in before. Keziah admitted to herself that she was vaguely disappointed that he did so, for what reason, she couldn’t fathom. That distance was to be crucial for them to get through this and keep their heads, she was certain of that much.

“Well, then,” he said, looking away from her. “I should leave you to get some rest before the doctor arrives. No doubt it’s just as well that he checks you over again.”

She watched as he gave a polite nod and excused himself, closing the door behind him.

Keziah rested her head on the pillow, wincing as she was reminded all too eloquently of every bruise and injury. Her thoughts were all a jumble. Images of her father’s rage, her own terror still a sour tang in her mouth, and a desperate sense of longing for peace and security seemed all at once to crash down upon her head. Her chest squeezed tight as fear and reality caught up with her. Could they really do this? Mr Formby had not seemed the kind of man to let something rest. If he discovered Ash was responsible, what then? For starters, there would be the most God awful scandal, and with her at the heart of it. Keziah shrank from the idea in horror. Whatever happened, she must ensure that Ash was blameless. But she knew she’d be seeing much more of Mr Formby, and the idea was not one she found any pleasure in.